


Elementary, My Dear Geordi

by astraaa (hauntedpunk)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Except they both hate bbc sherlock, Geordi and Data are still Sherlock Holmes fans, M/M, just as much as this author does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpunk/pseuds/astraaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time Geordi La Forge met Data, it was about a million degrees in the convention center, swarmed with just as many people, and yet the only thing he could think about was how stupid it had been to attend a con dressed as a side character."</p><p>Alternatively: Geordi hates BBC Sherlock, makes a habit of kissing strangers, and is pretty sure that he has the weirdest love life out of anyone he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elementary, My Dear Geordi

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm astra!! i just started watching the next generation a few weeks ago and fell in love with data and geordi. this fic is for amoktime / startrekgf on tumblr!!! ilu hannah ;* 
> 
> hopefully the next chapter will be posted in a few days! it's not going to be very long, three chapters or so, but it'll still be one of the longest daforge fics on this site. (really, guys, we need more content.) 
> 
> disclaimer: I Fucking Hate BBC Sherlock

The first time Geordi La Forge met Data, it was about a million degrees in the convention center, swarmed with just as many people, and yet the only thing he could think about was how stupid it had been to attend a con dressed as a side character.

Sure, John Watson was in fact an iconic character. But without Mr. Holmes at his side, he looked like someone who had thrown on Victorian era clothing and called it a costume. (Which, alright, he _had _, but there was more to it than that.) It didn’t help that Wesley Crusher, his coworker’s kid and tentative friend, was dressed as Luke Skywalker. Star Wars was one of Geordi’s favorite things, but it didn’t match John Watson, and he stuck out like a sore thumb among the science fiction nerds and the weaboos.__

Let the record show that Geordi La Forge hates weaboos almost as much as he hates BBC Sherlock fans. 

Don’t get him wrong, he adores cons. He loves interacting with other level headed fans (even if they are stained by the BBC’s interpretation of Sherlock Holmes). He loves meeting artists, actors, and writers. He loves being able to make friends donned in whatever character’s outfit he wants, without feeling judged. It’s nerdy, yeah, but one doesn’t become head of engineering at JPL without being a little nerdy. 

Wesley was dragging him along from booth to booth rattling off Star Wars trivia (“Geordi, did you know that George Lucas’ wife was the one to make most of the edits to the final release of the films? Oh, and that Han Solo is actually - ”) when Geordi saw him. The convention center opened up to one of the main floors, the high rise ceiling and skylights a good thirty feet above them. It was less compact here and he took the chance to breathe.  
And then, there he was. 

He was _glowing _. Literally. Geordi’s VISOR didn’t seem to want to focus on his face in any great detail, and it appeared as though this man’s visage was shimmering. Wesley stopped chattering for a minute and glanced at Geordi, following his line of sight to the man. He grinned knowingly.__

“Hey Geordi! It looks like we found the Holmes to your Watson!” 

“Seems like we have,” he managed. 

Upon closer inspection, the guy was at least a few inches taller than Geordi, with dark brown hair, and skin almost as pale as the glowing his VISOR had initially picked up. He was wearing the classic Sherlock Holmes costume - the long coat, the hunting cap, the pipe - and stood with pristine posture. His eyes seemed to gleam from his spot in the crowd. 

He was accompanied by two women, one dressed as Princess Leia and the other as Han Solo. Both were grinning while Sherlock kept his stoic face. _A good actor? _Geordi wondered. _Or maybe just a serious person?___

“Tasha,” he was saying to Han Solo. “I have told you several times now that you can leave me while you go to the costume contest. I am perfectly able to take care of myself. There’s a panel on scientific inaccuracy in science fiction that I want to see.” 

Geordi raised his eyebrows as he skirted around them, pretending to be looking at a group of cosplayers on the stair case. Wesley walked behind him, still grinning. _That little shit. ___

Sherlock was only two meters behind them, close enough to hear anything said too loudly. It was the primary reason that he elbowed Wesley in the side when the boy stage-whispered, “Guess I know what panel we’re checking out next.”

As he went to respond, he was suddenly grasped from the side. A girl of no more than sixteen wearing all gray body paint and black horns was clinging to his arm. She gasped. 

“Uh,” Geordi said eloquently. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, my god!” she said excitedly. “You and Sherlock over there are matching! You guys have to let everyone get pictures; it’s just too cute!”

“Hey, uh, I don’t know about this!” 

His protests were ignored as she ushered him, along with several of her friends, toward ‘Sherlock’. Silently, he began planning his obituary for when he inevitably died of shame. _Rest in peace Geordi La Forge. The young engineer died of a heart attack when forced to confront a cute boy against his will._

He was pushed next to him, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. He could hear Wesley laughing. Up close he could see that the guy’s eyes were in fact a bright yellow. He blinked. Colored contacts for this cosplay? Strange, but striking.

His two companions giggled. The blonde one - Tasha? - let out a snort of laughter and grabbed her friend’s arm. The dark-haired woman leaned back against her and smiled at Geordi.

“Hi there,” she said, not unkindly. 

“Hello,” Sherlock said, tone curious. His head tilted to the side slightly, eyes bright. “Can we help you?” 

“Hi,” he said, trying not to get caught up in his stare. “I’m sorry to interrupt you guys, but, uh…We seem to have accumulated a fan base.”

Sherlock peered around Geordi’s shoulder to the growing crowd of convention goers. Most had their phones or cameras out, giggling and talking loudly to each other. 

“Most interesting,” he said. “What do they want us to do?”

“You’re a dead ringer for Holmes and Watson,” Princess Leia said with an accented voice. “I suppose they want you to pose for them.”

One of the girls who was standing way too close to Geordi nodded excitedly. “You two are _adorable _. I can’t believe you didn’t come here together!”__

Geordi was...flustered, to say the least. His face felt way too red and he was pretty sure he let out an audible squeak when his Sherlock shrugged and stepped even closer to him. He put one arm out and for a moment, Geordi was sure he was going to wrap it around his waist. Instead, he held it behind Geordi’s back in an invitation for people to take photos. 

His companions stepped to the side, presumably to get out of the line of fire.

“My name is Data,” he said, giving a small smile. “Your costume is flawlessly done.”

He smelled like cologne. Something warm and full and tasteful. Maybe cinnamon? Vanilla? Geordi had always been pretty good at placing scents (a result of being basically blind) but this one alluded him. 

“Thanks, Data,” Geordi said, heart fluttering. Data was the perfect name. A unique moniker for a unique individual. “I’m glad to see someone else is wearing stuff from the correct time period. None of that BBC shit.”

“Stand closer!” someone dressed as Spider-man suggested. 

“You are not a fan of the most recent adaption?” Data asked, not breaking a step as he tugged Geordi closer to him, a hand resting politely against his back. There was no judgement in his voice. Instead, something akin to amusement.

“To put it lightly,” he agreed. “Hey, are you guys almost done?” 

“You guys should kiss,” someone suggested in an almost sing-song voice. 

“Kiss?” Geordi shot a terrified look at Data. 

This was just perfect. The obituary was now going to read like a Killer’s song: _It was only a kiss, only a kiss._

“Oh, do it!” said the original gray-painted girl. “Johnlock is so cute.” 

“Johnlock,” Geordi repeated.

Wesley was off to the side of the crowd talking to Tasha and the other woman, completely oblivious to Geordi’s panicked looks and gestures for help. He groaned quietly. 

“I will not do anything unless you are comfortable with it,” Data said earnestly. He looked at Geordi and cocked his head again. “It _is _only a kiss though.”__

“Only a kiss,” he said. 

_Stop repeating everyone, you sound like a broken record. _His stomach did little flips, heart hammering like thunder. There really was no downside to this. He was no adversary to PDA, and besides, Data was exactly his type. And he was being so polite about it…__

“Okay,” he said finally. He glanced sternly toward the small crowd. “Once, and then you guys quit harassing us, okay?” 

A couple people nodded their agreement. Somehow, Geordi didn’t think they were being quite truthful.

He turned toward Data, looking up at his new acquaintance. This close, he could see all of his open, honest expression almost nose to nose. His hand brushed Data’s and he pulled back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

He grinned and nudged Data with his elbow. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Holmes.”

If he was being honest, Geordi hadn’t expected Data to be the most experienced or... _skilled _kisser. No harsh judgements here but most people who frequent conventions dressed up as Sherlock Holmes probably aren’t getting any.__

Boy, was he wrong. 

Instead of the simple peck on the lips he was expecting, Data wrapped one arm around his waist and placed a hand on his neck, dipping him back in a Hollywood-esque kiss. For a split second he flailed before grabbing the taller man’s coat sleeve. He looked up, surprised, into a bright gaze. And then he was being kissed.

He leaned into it, smiling as he felt slightly chapped lips press against his. Data was warm and solid and shockingly strong, hands gripping Geordi gently. The now-familiar scent of his cologne was so close, but not cloying. Just warm, and soft, and - 

Then it was over, just as quickly as it had began. He was swung back up to standing position, eyes shooting open, as Data adjusted his cap. 

“You heard him! No more photos. Go enjoy the rest of the convention,” Data said to the crowd, making a “go away” motion with his hands. 

Not for the first time in his life, Geordi was glad that his eyes weren’t visible behind his VISOR, because they were wide open in shock. He touched his lips quickly and then looked at Data, who was twirling his pipe in his hands. 

“I hope that was okay,” Data said. “I do not have much experience kissing strangers.”

“Could have fooled me,” Geordi replied, voice wavering a little. “I’m Geordi, by the way. Geordi La Forge.”

“Geordi, you were saying that you do not enjoy the most recent adaptation. I am relieved to finally find someone that agrees with me on the matter!” He really did seem relieved. “Benedict Cumberbatch’s role is most...unsatisfactory.” 

“You can say that again!” Geordi exclaimed, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “And they completely butchered all of the side characters! The only thing remotely redeeming is the cinematography.” 

“Absolutely,” Data said enthusiastically. “I believe Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would be, to use a colloquialism, _rolling in his grave _if he discovered their choices. Particularly to bait audiences, the effects of which we just saw, with promises of a relationship between Holmes and Watson.”__

Geordi laughed, heart still pounding rapidly. Data was cute, intelligent, a good kisser, and apparently incredibly funny without meaning to be. Definitely his type. The way he spoke was in an even tone of voice, not too deep and not too high. It was almost soothing to listen to. 

“You’re so right.” He paused, deciding to fish. “Are you, uh, entirely adverse to that idea?”

“Of Holmes and Watson being portrayed in a romantic relationship?” Cue the little head tilt. “Not at all! It would be beneficial, considering the lack of same sex couples on television. And, besides, fans have been talking of the subtext between the two for centuries.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly a coming out. But considering he had just willingly kissed him and was okay with a hypothetical relationship between a character he clearly enjoyed, Geordi decided to go for it.

He took a deep breath. “Say, Data, can I have your nu - “

“Data!”

They both looked to their group of friends who had seemingly ceased conversation. Princess Leia was waving them over. 

Fuming quietly, Geordi followed his new friend over. Just when he had been about to ask for the cute boy’s number...

“What is it, Deanna?” 

Tasha grabbed her hand as she responded. “The costume contest is going to start in ten minutes and we really want you to come, Data. It’ll be fun!” 

“If you want me there, I will come,” he responded in a way Geordi could only interpret as happy. “I did not want to impose on your event.”

“Don’t be silly,” Deanna said, smiling sweetly. “Of course we want you there.”

Despite Geordi’s (mild) anger, he couldn’t help but feel immediately calmed by her soft grin. He suddenly had an idea and swiveled toward Wesley. 

“Wes, do you wanna participate in the - ?” 

“Sorry, Geordi,” Wesley interrupted. 

Geordi wilted. He was the king of being cut off mid-sentence today. Wesley kept going, metaphorically deflating him of his good idea.

“My mom just got here and she really needs me to come home now. Something about Jean-Luc coming over for dinner?”

“Oh, okay,” Geordi said, crestfallen. “Do you want me to walk you out?”

“My mom would appreciate it,” Wesley said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! No need to apologize,” he continued, forcing himself to be positive. 

He couldn’t be annoyed with the kid; he was barely fifteen. He had to be walked out of large public events like this for his own good, and besides, his mom was his coworker. Work on Monday would be hell if he let Wesley go without supervision for too long.

“Uh, Data, will you guys be around?”

“I was planning on staying for awhile,” Data said with a nod. “I will most likely be at the costume contest when you return. You can come join me, if you would like!” 

Geordi grinned and nodded, tearing himself away from staring into Data’s eyes so he could walk Wesley to the parking lot. “Good luck on the contest, you two. And Data - I’ll see you soon!” 

There was a chorus of “goodbyes” as he left the scene, a smile lighting up his face. 

“I can’t believe you two kissed for a bunch of fangirls,” Wesley said as they left the venue.

“You saw that?!” Geordi exclaimed. “Damn, I thought you were too busy talking to Data’s friends to notice.”

Wesley giggled. “No big deal, Geordi. I won’t tell anyone you kissed a stranger for a bunch of weird fans.”

“Don’t put it like that,” he groaned. 

The parking lot of the convention center was huge, and he had to walk through rows upon rows of cars with Wesley, pretending he wasn’t screaming on the inside to _hurry up! _Eventually they found Dr. Crusher, Wesley was dropped off, and he rushed back into the con almost twenty minutes later.__

And, naturally, to top his weird day off, he couldn’t find Data or his friends anywhere. 

By the time he located the costume contest in the furthest possible room of the convention, he was incredibly late, and the Star Wars portion had already ended. Data was nowhere to be found. After that it was pretty much a lost cause. He spent another hour walking around the convention halfheartedly before declaring it a day. 

That night he checked online for photos of the con, gaping when he came across a few of he and Data. They looked good together, like two halves of a whole. He clicked on one of their kiss. 

It looked real, like it hadn’t been staged, like it wasn’t their first time kissing (let alone meeting). He could see him gripping tight onto his jacket, and where Data’s arm circled Geordi’s waist. 

He saved the picture to his phone and sent a few messages to people who had posted the photos, asking if they had gotten his contact information. No one had, and he went to bed with a sense of missing something lingering over him. It was a strange feeling to have over someone he had met for a total of five minutes. 

_Maybe I’ll see him again next year. ___

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ qpid on tumblr <33


End file.
